


do you trust me?

by wildandwhirlingwords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildandwhirlingwords/pseuds/wildandwhirlingwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home is not always where the heart is, and Andromeda knows that better than most. The time has come for her to choose between the two. Ted is on hand to help her make that choice. Inspired in part by the 'A Whole New World' sequence in Disney's "Aladdin". All rights for that belong to Walt Disney. Everything else is property of JKR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you trust me?

**do you trust me?**

An indigo bruise was beginning to bloom against the canvas of the sky and the first stars were just starting to appear and yet the early August air remained oppressive and heavy. The casement window was pushed open as fair as the catch would allow and Andromeda sat beneath it in the cushioned window seat, the thin breeze lifting tendrils of her brown hair from her forehead and her neck. A book sat open in her lap but she had not turned a single page all evening, her attention diverted by the lights of London spread out below her.

Something collided with the glass and pulled her back to the stifling interior of her bedroom, heart hammering at the sudden intrusion to the peace.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

As she watched, a spray of gravel knocked against the window. Her brow furrowed but, in spite of herself, a smile twitched at the corners of her lips as she scrambled to her feet, legs tangling in the skirt of her summer dress, bare soles sliding over the satin cushions. In the alley below was a boy with a mop of messy blond hair, stooped as if searching for more missiles. The smile melted into an anxious expression, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. It was terrible habit, one that her mother abhorred; ‘Stop chewing your lip and _smile,_ Andromeda,’ Druella Black’s continual reprimand echoed in her ears and, automatically, she obeyed.

“Ted,” she hissed, not daring to raise her voice. Below, the boy lifted his head and caught sight of her leaning out of the window. A wide grin lit up his features.

“Dromeda! Thank goodness…I was terrified I’d got the wrong room.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips at the thought.

“Thank goodness…” she echoed. There was a pause as both looked at one another before she spoke again: “You very easily could have. This is madness…What are you doing here?” Her tone was sharper than she had intended and his smile faltered slightly.

“I wanted to see you,” he shrugged, “I know it sounds cheesy but it’s true. I miss you.” Andromeda risked a glance behind her as he raised his voice.

“I…” she began, but words failed her. In the end all she managed was an apology; “I can’t come down...they’ll hear the door…” His grin settled back into place.

“That’s all right. I’ll come up.” He nodded towards the nearest bin; a battered looking broomstick was propped up by its side and Andromeda had to smile despite his folly. The broom was old, its flight halting and wonky and she watched his ascent with her nails digging into the skin of her neck and her heart in her mouth.

It came to a quivering halt, hovering just the other side of the sill.

“Hello,” he grinned, voice low. She laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“Hello.” Ted leant forward to claim her lips in a clumsy second greeting, only daring to lift one hand from the broom’s handle as it suddenly tipped forwards. His fingers were cool against her flushed cheeks and automatically, as her lips responded warmly to his, both of her hands reached out to frame his face, to draw him closer. From somewhere inside the house there came a creak, perhaps a foot on a stair, or the closing of a door. Immediately, Andromeda sprang back, eyes wind and lips parted in terror.

“We can’t…they’ll catch us…” Ted steadied the broom.

“Then let’s get out of here.” Her lips fluctuated into a wavering smile but he didn’t appear to be joking; only a slight smile lifted his expression as he held out his hand. “I mean it. Come with me. See some of the world. I’ll bring you home after, I promise.” At his enthusiasm she could not help but smile too. Her fingers were clenched over the window frame as she looked between him and the door behind her. Finally, she looked down at the broom.

“Is it safe?” He laughed.

“Do you trust me?” She pursed her lips.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine,” he countered, _“Do you trust me?”_ He flexed his fingers as if inviting her to take up his offer. Hesitantly she slipped her hand into his.

“Yes…” Absently he brought her fingertips to his lips and gently let go, pulling the broom up alongside her window. Her head disappeared from view as she ducked down and fastened her sandals on and then she was closing her eyes and climbing on behind him, arms tight around his middle, nails pinching at his chest through the cotton of his shirt as the broom rocked beneath them.

The wind whistled through her hair and lifted gooseflesh on her skin. She risked a glance beneath them. They were climbing; the lights of the city were reducing to pinpricks, the air was cooler and she felt as if she could touch the wisps of cloud that floated past. She was entirely captivated.

“My goodness…” she pulled Ted closer and laid her cheek against his shoulder, bereft of further words. He heard her quiet sigh and smiled to himself.

He took them over the Thames. It unwound, shining and shimmering in the dusk, reflecting, even from their height, London’s electric glow. A flock of birds flew towards them, black shadows, elegant on their outstretched wings, weaving and rolling around one another. They swooped around the broom, ducking and diving. Instinctively Andromeda’s arms grew taut again and she shrieked, burying her face in his shirt. Ted chuckled.

“Don’t close your eyes, Dromeda; you’ll miss it.” Slowly she raised her head, leaning to the side to peer around his shoulder. The tail end of the flight swerved in an undulating arc to avoid the broom, so close that the whisper of their feathers in the air was audible.

They flew until the moon had fully risen; a cream crescent aglow from behind cut out of the inky sky. The concrete and steel of the city had given way to fields and the two of them ended up on their backs in the grass, looking up at the stars that they had just been up among.

“Where are you then?” Ted’s voice, although it was soft, was loud in the quiet afforded by the countryside. Andromeda propped herself up on her elbows so she could see him properly.

“I’m right here,” she knew, though, she had been away with the fairies, drinking in the fresh air and enjoying the tickle of the grass on her bare skin. But that’s not what he meant either. He pointed to the heavens.

“Andromeda. Where are you?” Her brown eyes swept over the stars – Regulus and Orion (her cousin and her uncle) were just visible somewhere off to the west but it was the wrong time of year for her and her sisters to be visible. She smiled and rolled onto her side, curling one arm across his chest and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Tonight,” she whispered, “I’m right here, with you.” His only answer was to meet her lips in another kiss. She let her eyes drift closed and her lips parted under his as she drew him closer, realising that this was the first time that there had been no element of trepidation in her kiss, no need to pull away and to hide, no need to fear that they would be discovered. Somehow it tasted sweeter.

The night was a blur of starlight and kisses and a freedom that Andromeda had never known. His lips drifted down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses from behind her ear to her shoulder. Her hands were tangled in his hair. His fingers roved, skimming over her breasts, down her sides, along her thighs as if trying to acquaint himself with the feel of her, and she reciprocated.

They made love for the first time, bathed in the moonlight with the dew on their backs.

Dawn was on the horizon before either of them stirred. She had fallen asleep, utterly sated, limbs loose, her head on his chest, his arm cradled about her, holding her against his side. When he woke her, the early morning wind that ruffled the grass was enough to make her shiver. Andromeda righted the straps of her dress and shook out her skirt and Ted’s big hands draped his own jacket tenderly around her shoulders.

“Carriage for milady?” He asked with his usual grin, but as she wrapped the denim closer around her body her smile was sad.

“Thank you.”

The journey home was subdued and seemed to fly by in a way that it hadn’t before. In the gloom of the pre-dawn even London, which she had so often admired from her bedroom window, had lost its charms and seemed flat and grey. No lights appeared to be lit at home and for that she was grateful.

It was more difficult clambering back through the window from the broom, which, even hovering, wasn’t quite still. She gripped the window with white-knuckled hands and pulled herself across. For a long second she was caught between inside and out, afraid to let go, afraid she might fall. For one heart-stopping second, with one leg on the sill, the broom bucked beneath her and she was sure she would fall, but Ted steadied the handle just in time. She took a deep breath to calm herself and pulled the other leg over, ducking back under the ledge and into her room.

Everything was just as she had left it; the bed, unslept in but with a dent in the covers where she’d been lying the previous afternoon before the stifling heat had forced her to move to the window seat; cushions on the seat disturbed; book still open, preserving her page on the rug…Older features stood out as she stooped to pick it up; that bed was the one she had slept in for as long as she could remember; photographs of her and her sisters growing up adorned every wall. Each one of them was as familiar to her as breathing and yet her chest was suddenly tight and everything somehow seemed different, distant.

Behind her she heard footsteps as Ted crossed the room to stand beside her and in silence they gazed at the three girls in the picture frame positioned at the forefront of all those resting on her dressed, their hair done up in ribbons, laughing as they pushed on another on a swing.

“Nineteen fifty seven,” she said after a moment, “We were in France.” A smile softened her lips as she remembered; it had been an idyllic summer, all but lost to time now, but snatches of conversations, laughter, the feel of the grass whispering around them as they ran, white frocks floating on the wind all remained bathed in a golden glow that was only half a result of the sunlight. She reached up and rested her fingers against the glass, turning to face Ted. “It was so long ago now…” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and let her continue. “They’ve changed – we’ve all changed…” She had to look away, unable to bear seeing laughter and happiness where now all appeared cold and malicious. Dropping her hand, she turned her face into Ted’s chest. He brought his arms round her and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I can’t see you like this. Dromeda…” he told her, eyes squeezed shut, “I can’t bear it.” Her body started to tremble under his touch and he realised she was crying. Very slowly he loosed his embrace, but she clutched desperately at his shirt, as if she never intended to let him go. He placed a tender hand on either cheek and guided her face upwards so that her eyes met his. They were glistening with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, longing for the simple surety offered by the feel of his arms around her. “I don’t mean to spoil it; it was just so perfect…” Ted leant forward to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t be daft. You’ve spoiled nothing. I’m sorry…I know I make things hard for you…” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips, smoothed his palms over her shoulders, sliding them down her arms, running a finger over each of her knuckle, trying to recommit the feel of her to memory because it was time for him to go. He could hear movement in the rest of the house.

She did not stop him, but fixed a faltering smile on her face and raised her hand in the best farewell she could muster. Ted paused, standing on the window seat.

“No tears, Dromeda,” he said firmly, and then a slight laugh pulled up the corners of his lips, “You’ll only set me off.” It was almost a joke.

“Will I see you soon?” There was a desperation to her question as her voice cracked midsentence. Ted stepped down onto the carpet again, hands in his hair.

“Andromeda,” he said uncertainly, as if he were trying out her name for the first time, “I don’t – I thought-” he felt as though his tongue was tied in knots, “I can’t stay here, you know that…” but all the same his tone was laced with regret.

“I know, Ted, I’m sorry…you’re right, I shouldn’t…you should go.” He stole another quick kiss and made to turn away, to go, but her hands held fast to his shirt. He pressed a long, hard kiss to her forehead and she felt a laugh rumbled against her skin as he pulled back.

“Dromeda…” She laughed with him, but as she let go and looked up at him there was something odd in his expression, as if he was warring with himself. “Come with me.” The words tumbled out as one as his gaze held hers, deadly serious all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t but I don’t want to leave you here, I don’t want to leave you behind. Come with me.” Andromeda hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at the photograph of her sisters. “Hell, Andromeda,” his voice cut across her doubts, “Marry me.” Her face paled, mouth falling open.

“Ted…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked in earnest, one of his hands cupping her cheek.

“I…yes…” Her lips split into a grin. She turned her back on the pictures; who they were then was not who they were not. “Yes, I do; I will.” 


End file.
